Standing in the Shadows

by Shannon McKenna

  He arched his back with a sigh and closed his eyes.

  Shampoo lather foamed, dripping off his head, off her hands. It plopped into the hot water that lapped her ankles and floated there like whipped cream, like cumulus clouds. Heat and steam and the slick, moist sounds of her hands caressing his hair put her in a sensual trance. She could have gone on caressing his beautifully shaped head forever. Admiring his ears, the thick hair that slid between her fingers, his dark, gold-tipped lashes. His sharp cheekbones, the grim lines that bracketed his mouth. Flinging his head back like that made the tendons stand out in his sinewy neck.

  She could lean down and kiss him right now. It would be so easy. A perfect lead-in. The thought circled in her mind, teasing, dancing in almost close enough to spur her into action, then retreating.

  She scooped up hot water with the ice bucket, rinsed the lather out of his hair. Squeezed the water out. Connor opened his eyes. His eyebrows lifted, questioning.

  She smiled shyly and squeezed conditioner onto her palm. The stuff had cost a fortune, and it was almost used up. She wasn’t going to be buying hair-care products with that kind of price tag for a very long time, but what the hell. Connor was worth it. She squeezed until the tube was empty and flung it aside. “I’m going to work this stuff into your hair, and you’re going to leave it on for ten minutes.”

  He looked aggrieved. “Ten minutes?”

  “A half hour would be better,” she said sternly. “I really should wrap your hair in a hot towel to help it penetrate. But I think that would be pushing my luck.” She massaged conditioner into his hair.

  Connor seized one of her slippery hands and held it to his face. “Wow,” he murmured. “My hair’s going to smell like that?”

  “Yes, and you will live.” She stared at the brutal scarring on his long, graceful hand. “So don’t whine.”

  He stroked her hand, as if the conditioner were a massage oil. “I finally know the secret.”

  She was half-hypnotized by his caressing hands. “What secret?”

  “Why your hair is so pretty.” A lazy smile played over his mouth. “I always wondered how you made it so shiny and perfect. So this is how it’s done. Hours in the bathroom, and sweet-smelling goop slathered all over you. I could get used to this.”

  Time warped and slowed even more in that silent, enchanted bathroom. The only sound was the hollow drip of the faucet plopping rhythmically into the bathtub. The room was a blur of fragrant mist.

  She stared at his big, caressing hands and tried not to pant.

  Connor’s eyes flicked up to her face. He grinned. “You’re rosy red, Erin. Are you hot? Or are you just blushing?”

  “I’m hot,” she said in a tiny voice. “I think it’s time to rinse.”

  “Has it been ten minutes? Damn. Feels like ten seconds.”

  She had absolutely no idea. It could’ve been ten seconds, it could’ve been three hours. “At least ten minutes,” she murmured.

  He dropped his head into her hands with a growl of pleasure. “I feel like a sultan getting pampered by his beautiful bath attendant.”

  She giggled at the rush of erotic images his words provoked. Her eyes slid down the length of his body—and stopped at his groin.

  He had an erection. A large erection. Not that she had much basis for comparison, but it was much larger than she’d expected.

  Here it was, proof positive that if she came on to him, he wouldn’t object. At least his body wouldn’t. She could just reach down and…and what? Stroke him through his jeans, or would it be better to unbutton them? Her hands were goopy and wet. Maybe he would think it was vulgar and crass. Maybe he would be offended.

  Or worse, amused. She was so goddamned chicken.

  She rinsed his hair carefully and stood up. “Time to comb and trim,” she announced. “Sit up on the edge of the tub, please.”

  He grimaced. “Do I have to?”

  “You’ve come this far. Don’t choke at the finish.”

  He lifted himself up. “You’re not going to make me look like a poodle, are you?” he grumbled. “It has to be long enough for a ponytail. And all one length, for God’s sake. Otherwise it drives me nuts.”

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “Trust me. I’m very good at this.”

  She eased her comb through his hair and fanned it out over his broad shoulders. “I’ll trim it to shoulder length. That’ll get rid of the split ends. Where’s your part?”

  He twisted around, puzzled. “My what?”

  “The part in your hair,” she explained. “It changes the cut.”

  “Jesus, this is complicated. It’s wherever it happens to be at any given moment that I yank my hair back. I never really noticed.”

  “Oh, you are hopeless,” she snapped.

  She trimmed his hair with slow, methodical precision. She drew it out as long as she could, so she could linger close to him, but she finally had to straighten up and run her hands through his hair. “All done,” she said. “Now for a blow-dry, and you’re all set.”

  He recoiled. “Like hell. That’s where I draw the line.”

  She brandished her blow dryer. “But Connor, it’s just a—”

  “Get that thing away from me before you electrocute us both!”

  “You are such a baby.” She gathered up the cut ends, dropped them in the trash basket, and hurried from the bathroom. She shoved her sticky, hair-covered bottles into her toiletries case with none of her usual anxious neatness. She was so angry at herself. All those openings, and she had just let them go by, one after the other. Idiot. Coward.

  “Erin.”

  She turned. He leaned in the bathroom doorway, still naked to the waist. The slicked back hair accentuated the stark, chiseled beauty of his face. She sank down onto the bed. “What?” she quavered.

  “This was really nice of you. Really sweet. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” she whispered.

  Sweet. He thought she was sweet. And nice. There it was, like an evil enchantment. She tried to swallow it, but it wouldn’t go down.

  People had called her that all her life. Ever since she’d been an unnaturally well-behaved little girl who tried to be perfect, and make the world harmonious for Mommy and Daddy. Since they couldn’t be harmonious on their own and needed all the help they could get.

  Sweet and nice. Respectful and polite and studious. Straight As, honor society, squeaky clean, pure as the goddamn driven snow.

  She couldn’t endure it any longer.

  “Uh…Erin? Did I say something wrong?”

  She looked up at him wildly. “No, of course not! I, uh, need the bathroom for a while, if you don’t mind.”

  He nodded. The smile he gave her was so sexy, her toes curled up. She snatched her toiletries case and her nightgown, and hustled into the bathroom while she still had partial control of her face.

  She squeezed her eyes shut beneath the pounding spray of the shower. She was going to have to do something dramatic to break this awful spell. Worst case scenario, he would just laugh at her.

  No. Connor was brusque and hard-edged, but he wasn’t cruel. If he didn’t want her, it would be so painful for him to have to reject her. But it wouldn’t kill them. They would both live through it.

  She turned off the shower. Then again, maybe it would kill her. But even the prospect of death by embarrassment was no excuse for cowardice. She toweled off, and put on her nightgown and panties. She put her hand on the doorknob—and stopped.

  She’d bought the nightgown because it was like something out of a Regency romance, gauzy and lace-trimmed and romantic. But it was so virginal. Nowhere near sexy enough to make the statement she needed to make. Neither were her white cotton bra and panties. If she wanted to go past the point of no return, she had to be bold. Once she stepped out that door, she was going to be as mute as a statue anyway. If there was a message to be sent, it had better be a nonverbal one.

  She pulled off the nightgown and hung it on the hook. Peeled off
the panties, folded them and refolded them. Her cold fingers were clutching the door handle when she remembered her hair. She pulled the bun loose, let it tumble around her shoulders.

  She stared into the mirror. Naked, with her hair down, she might almost pass for sexy. Too bad she’d left the makeup case out on the bed. No help from that quarter. She would have to do this au naturel.

  A better chance to seduce him would never come her way. And she might not be talented, but oh, was she ever motivated. She tried to take a deep, bracing breath, but no air would go into her lungs.

  She pushed the door open and walked into the room.

  Chapter

  8

  Connor turned at the sound of the door.

  His shocked silence made her feel both terribly alone and terribly exposed, as if she stood naked on a stage in front of a murmuring crowd, and Connor’s burning gaze were a spotlight. The silence went on and on. He opened his mouth. Closed it. His Adam’s apple bobbed.

  “Holy shit,” he said hoarsely. “What the hell are you doing?”

  Her lips started trembling, then her whole jaw. “I don’t know,” she whispered. She had no idea what she was doing. But whatever it was, it was obviously the wrong thing.

  Well, here it was. Worse case scenario. Times like these were a girl’s opportunity to show her true quality. “I’ll just, um, put my clothes back on,” she mumbled. “Excuse me.”

  Her eyes filled up as she turned. She launched herself in what she sincerely hoped was the direction of the bathroom door.

  He grabbed her from behind, spun her around, and shoved her hard against the wall. “Not so fast. Wait a goddamn minute.”

  His furious face was inches from hers. His naked chest grazed her nipples. She opened her mouth, but nothing intelligible came out. “I—”

  “Don’t you dare come waltzing out of that bathroom buck naked and then just leave me hanging!”

  She gasped. “But I—but I thought—”

  “What? You thought what? That strutting around naked in front of me would be good sport? Big joke, huh? Dangle bait in front of me and watch me jump.”

  His inexplicable fury bewildered her. “Connor, I—”

  “Don’t you dare tease me like that, Erin. Don’t…you…dare.”

  She finally found her voice. “You got it wrong.”

  “Wrong how? Say it louder. I can’t hear you.”

  She shoved against his chest, but he would not budge. It was as if he were rooted to the ground. “Do not yell at me!”

  “Let’s hear it, Erin.” His voice was soft, but no less menacing. “How am I wrong?”

  She reached to cover her breasts, but his hands flashed out and wrenched hers wide open, pinning them against the wall. He leaned closer. The hard bulge in his jeans pressed hard against her pubic bone. “No way, Erin. This was your idea. Take responsibility for it.”

  She stared into his eyes. “I just wanted…” Her throat closed, and she tried again. “I wanted to—”

  “What? What did you want? What crazy game are you playing with me?”

  “Don’t swear at me! I am not playing games! I wanted you!”

  His face went blank. “Huh?”

  “I want you!” Anger gave her the strength to wrench her hands loose. “God, Connor! Is it so hard to get? Could I possibly be more obvious? What do I have to do, send you a singing telegram?”

  “Me?” he repeated.

  She shoved at his hot chest, and this time he stumbled back. “Yes, you! Idiot! I had no idea you would be so ridiculous about it!” She dove for the bathroom. “Let it go. Never mind. I promise, I will never—”

  “Fuck, no.” He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her around to face him. “We’re not letting this go. No way.”

  She’d been hoping for a smooth segue into a sensual dance, in which Connor would take the lead and she could follow his cues and hide how awkward and inexpert she was. It wasn’t going to be like that.

  He was so worked up. Trembling in the grip of some intense emotion. A thrill of delicious, primitive terror went through her. “Ease up, please,” she whispered. “Your hands are hurting me.”

  His hands dropped. “Sorry,” he said gruffly.

  She rubbed the sore spots his fingers had left. “You scared me.”

  He shook with a short burst of ironic laughter. “Yeah, well, you scared me, too.”

  “Dad said you had nerves of steel. I wouldn’t have thought that just a naked girl could faze you.”

  He let out a long, ragged sigh. “It depends on the girl. God. Look at you,” he said softly. “Your body is gorgeous.”

  She blushed. How gallant and sweet of him, to carry on about her perfectly ordinary body. “Um, thank you.”

  He stared as if he were in a trance. A flush was burned into his high cheekbones. She reached up and touched it with her fingertips. The muscles of his face shifted beneath hot, velvety skin.

  She explored his neck, his shoulders, and slid her arms around his waist, sighing as their torsos touched. “I like your body, too,” she whispered. She brushed her fingers across the ridges of muscle and bone and scar tissue. Her faintest touch made him shudder and gasp.

  He placed his hands tentatively on her shoulders. “My hands don’t know where to land.” His voice shook. “You’re so soft and warm. And you’re naked. Everywhere.”

  “So touch me everywhere,” she said.

  He threaded his fingers into her hair and let them slide down its smooth length. “Am I dreaming? Prove to me that I’m not dreaming.”

  “OK.” She slid her hand down over his back and pinched his muscular butt. “How’s that?”

  He hid his face against her hair, laughing silently. “I’m convinced,” he said.” My dream Erin would never do a thing like that.”

  The implications of those words sank in. “Dream Erin?” she whispered. “You mean you’ve thought about me before?”

  “God, yes. I’ve wanted you for years.” His hands were all over her, bold and eager. Circling her waist, caressing her bottom, her hips.

  She hid her hot, smiling face against his chest. “I bet your dream Erin would never pinch a man’s butt, huh?” She started to shake with helpless laughter. “I bet she’s a picture-perfect porcelain doll with shiny black patent leather shoes and ankle socks who never puts a foot wrong, right?”

  He frowned, baffled. “Huh?”

  “I bet she’s a mealy-mouthed twit with an apple for the teacher. I bet she would never scare a guy half to death by jumping out of the bathroom stark naked. But guess what, Connor? Say good-bye to your dream Erin. She’s history. No more Ms. Nice Girl. I quit.”

  “Look out.” He looked fascinated. “Are you going to put on a leather miniskirt and five-inch heels and rob banks?”

  “No. I’m going to seduce you,” she announced.

  A delighted grin lit up his face. “I’m cool with that. But if it makes you feel any better, my dream Erin never wore patent leather shoes. She was always bare naked. Wide open while we made love. All that creamy skin damp and rosy.”

  “Oh, my,” she gasped. “Really?”

  He nodded. “Turn around.”

  She was startled at the abrupt command. “What?”

  He cupped the curve of her bottom. “Your ass drives me crazy. Turn around, right here. In front of the mirror. I want to look at it.”

  It was ridiculous, after all the bold lengths she’d gone to, but her face still burned. “I…but it’s, ah, too big. Cindy’s always giving me Buns of Steel videos for Christmas as a joke, and I—”

  “Cindy can weld her scrawny buns into steel if she wants. I like a round, beautiful ass like yours. You’re the one who took your clothes off for me, Erin. I’ve been sneaking guilty peeks at your ass for years. Now’s my chance to get a good, long look. So turn around. Now.”

  She did not miss the command hidden beneath the lazy sensual tone. And he was right. This had been her idea. She turned her back to him.

  He
clasped her waist, and pushed her forward gently. She swayed and caught herself on the low table. She stared straight into the mirror, back arched, bottom sticking out. Her face was bright pink.

  Connor smiled, a hot, predatory smile that made the muscles of her thighs clench. The pose he had put her in was an explicit invitation.

  He was testing her. Her arms trembled. She didn’t move. She would not chicken out. No way. She’d come this far.

  His hands slid lower, worshiping every curve, caressing her inner thighs and brushing boldly over the fuzz of hair that hid her sex. He pulled her up, and back against him, his arm tight around her belly, his erection pressed against her bottom. “You make it so hard to do the right thing,” he muttered.

  She struggled to concentrate. “The right thing? What is that?”

  “To not touch you,” he growled. “I bullied you into this whole thing. Seducing you puts me deep into dickhead territory.”

  “Wait a minute, here. Who is seducing who? Who gets the credit for this, Mr. Connor Do-The-Right-Thing-At-All-Costs McCloud?”

  “That’s not the point.”

  She lifted her chin. “I think it is the point. You’re pathetically misguided about what the right thing is, Connor.”

  His lips quirked. “Is that right?”

  “The right thing is for you to satisfy my carnal desires,” she said. “That is the only honorable response to this situation.”

  An appreciative grin spread slowly over his face. “Wow. My dream Erin would never have said a thing like that, either.”

  “Good-bye, dream Erin. Hello, real Erin. Get used to it.”

  “Oh, I’m adjusting,” he assured her. “You took me by surprise at first, but I’m getting used to the hardcore Erin real quick.” He cupped her breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers. “Just look at these tits,” he murmured. “Wet dream material. So? Tell me your carnal desires, sweetheart. I stand ready to serve, in any way.”

  She hesitated, and decided that pretending she knew what she was doing would be too stressful. “I’m not quite sure where I want to go from here,” she admitted. “I was hoping you might have some ideas.”